


Sweet for You

by RoLo_Renegade



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: Candy Doesn't Hurt Kryptonian Teeth, Don't worry though, F/F, Fluff, MILES AND MILES OF TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, WITH ACTUAL TOOTH-ROTTING CANDY, supercat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 16:30:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12708702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoLo_Renegade/pseuds/RoLo_Renegade
Summary: Cat can't help feeding that insatiable Kryptonian sweet tooth...





	Sweet for You

**Author's Note:**

> Did anyone else ever notice the dish of candy corn on Cat's desk in the S1 episode "Livewire"? Cat doesn't really strike me as a candy corn kind of woman. So why the dish on her desk? Who's she feeding that to? I wonder...

Of course she noticed.

Kara, scurrying across the bullpen, the remnants of a Red Vine clasped between her lips.

Kara, consuming more gummi bears in one sitting than there were actual bears left on the North American continent.

Kara, disappointing Tootsie Pop theorists everywhere as she crunched her way through to the Tootsie Roll center with sacrilegious abandon.

Kara, giggling with Winn as Pop Rocks fizzed and crackled along the length of her tongue.

Kara, with an unquenchable sweet tooth and a metabolism clearly unmatched by mere mortals, devouring her way daily through a Willy Wonka cornucopia of sweet treats.

Cat was certain she couldn’t remember a day since Kara’s hiring when she didn’t hear a nearly constant symphony of cellophane wrappers, discarded in a trash can always nearly overflowing beneath her assistant’s desk.

As she sat in her home office, well into the early morning hours after the biggest news story to occur in the history of National City, it all seemed to click into place with a laughable clarity. Her eyes burned, her vision blurred, but she hit “play” again and again, studying the contours of a face more familiar to Cat than even she had realized until that night.

Not even rat-drenched and poorly lit could convince Cat that she was seeing anyone other than her bright, bubbly assistant perched on the wing of a partially submerged plane—a plane the woman had caught from the sky and carried to safety as easily as she carried layouts and lattes at CatCo.

So much suddenly cleared in Cat’s mind. So much more required deeper pondering, follow-up scrutiny. Strangely enough, however, the one thing her mind continued to latch onto was _this_ was how Kara could consume her weight in sugar and high-fructose corn syrup and never seem satisfied. She rolled her eyes at her own absurdity before shutting down her computer for bed and her mandatory two hours of sleep. Her final thoughts that morning were of how to protect her newly minted hero.

Two days later, #Supergirl became the fastest trending topic not just in CatCo but in Twitter history. And while Kara protested the name, in a pique of bravado the CEO _might_ have found mildly alluring, Cat knew it was precisely what needed to be done. Kara now had protection in place—a moniker of deflection Cat would wield through CatCo’s influence to keep attention focused more on the persona and less on the person. The CEO realized early that Kara’s reveal, while clearly not planned, was something she wanted to embrace. It was also something she had no idea how to craft or conceal.

Kara was strong but still untested, invincible but inexperienced. Her heroic heart and inexhaustible kindness demanded she try to do everything she possibly could right away. Cat knew the danger of such unguided sincerity, and so she stepped in front of the speeding locomotive of Kara’s passionate but unfocused zeal. In inimitable Cat Grant style, she began to give Kara the direction she needed to truly become the Hero of National City.

Issues would always arise, of course, even with the most adept planners at the helm. Later in the evening, after Cat had adequately addressed the first appearance of Kara’s most pressing issue, she would allow herself the indulgence of an affectionate eye-roll over a tumbler of her favorite single-malt. _Of course,_ this would be the one thing Kara would need to tend to above all else.

Food.

She’d noticed right away the increase in Kara’s food intake. The sticky bun she would eat every morning for breakfast while confirming Cat’s daily calendar. The second breakfast of Pop Tarts she would sneak while sorting Cat’s correspondence. The lunch she would devour while scheduling Cat’s appointments—before the lunch she would eat after picking up Cat’s lunch. The prerequisite pre-dinner snack she would consume while straightening her desk for the next day. And, whenever they needed to work late, Cat learned quickly that potstickers were the preferred method for quelling the more urgent audible protestations of a now perpetually grumbling Kryptonian stomach.

Cat also knew it would only be a matter of time before others on the floor noticed this increased hunger as well, even with as careful as Kara tried to be in her constant scavenging to satisfy her caloric needs. Imagine, then, the utter convenience of it all when the ravenous hero arrived one morning to the sight of her desk surrounded by boxes marked with the name of a nutritional supplement supplier from Central City. Surprisingly, the CEO seemed unperturbed by the clutter she found on her arrival, waving dismissively at her assistant’s nervous apologies as she breezed into her office.

“An overeager but highly compelling marketer convinced me to try their protein bars.” She clicked her tongue for effect at the surprised stare from her assistant. “Not me specifically. I’m giving this company a six-month trial to stock the CatCo gym.” With a roll of her eyes, she finished, ”Honestly, Kiera, what would _I_ do with a dozen cases of high-calorie protein bars? I mean, really,” she sighed while gesturing toward her lissome form with melodramatic flourish.

Kara’s gaze lingered over the curves in question, feeling her face flush instantly when she realized the CEO had begun watching her with silent curiosity. She staggered backward toward her desk, laughing in her nervous manner that Cat secretly found endearing. “Don’t worry, Ms. Grant. I’ll—I’ll have someone move these boxes to the gym.”

If, after that, Cat noticed a random protein bar wrapper (or five) mingled with the usual junk food flotsam Kara left behind each evening, she pointedly remained silent. She did, however, confirm with the supplier an autoship option for their largest monthly shipment.

Of course, even with a healthier, more satisfying alternative to quelling hunger pangs, Kara still consumed astonishing amounts of candy. Perhaps, Cat often pondered, Kara had never experienced sweets until arriving on Earth. Whatever the reason, she decimated candy with a delight and devotion Cat fought against imagining applied to other forms of devouring.

It wasn’t until the CEO needed to make layout rounds for herself one afternoon—one of the inevitable concessions Cat quietly accepted as part of the “superhero assistant” package—that she realized she wasn’t the only one at the company aware of Kara’s insatiable sweet tooth. Every division head had some kind of candy bowl or dispenser on their desk, filled to capacity with Kara’s favorite indulgences: gum drops, gummi bears, butterscotch candies, Reese’s pieces (Cat simply could not control the eye roll at that particular preference), Skittles.

The following Monday, Cat brought in a bowl of her own—a stunning example of Waterford’s finest crystal in its simplest yet most elegant form. She placed it at the right corner of her desk blotter, a crystal cap to the line of reading glasses she knew Kara dutifully corralled for her every morning. She’d watched Kara once, standing in the entrance to Cat’s office, so focused on whatever it was she was doing that she failed to notice the CEO’s presence at the edge of the bullpen. Cat had watched Kara tip her glasses down the strong bridge of her nose and discreetly scan the room. And then she was hastily crossing between the couches, collecting cat’s eye frames from somewhere deep enough between the cushions the CEO knew they wouldn’t have been visible to anyone but her assistant.

Her “not special” assistant with eyes of star shine and sorrow, and sunlit smiles almost bright enough to hide the lamentations carved deeply into her heart.

Under the pretense of “setting a holiday mood,” Cat decided on seasonal candies. When Kara entered her office for the first time after Cat had finished filling the bowl with her choice for November, she noted with carefully controlled satisfaction how her assistant stared for several beats before finally meeting the CEO’s patient gaze. What she hadn’t anticipated was the affected shine in Kara’s eyes or the shy tint to her cheeks.

“You like candy corn, Ms. Grant?”

The CEO offered a noncommittal hum. “They—don’t offend. I assume you’re a fan?”

The dusting of color in her cheeks grew subtly darker. “They’re—they’re one of my favorites.”

Something in the gentle, melancholy tone silenced the sarcasm always poised on the tip of Cat’s tongue. Instead, she pursed her lips for a beat before replying, “Well, then, help yourself whenever, Kiera.” She shifted her attention quickly back to her computer, suddenly discomfited by how pleased Kara’s responding smile made her feel.

In public, Cat wasn’t soft. She wasn’t kind or comforting. Through the years, many had described her as jagged, hurtful, ruthless. If she were anything less in the eyes of her competitors, she knew her media empire would as good as topple. Softness was vulnerability. Comfort was submission.

It was with no small degree of personal rebuke, then, that she accepted how Kara not only softened her but made her _want_ to be soft for the hero—to be kind, to comfort, to care. All the ways the CEO was for her son were how she slowly found herself wanting to be for Kara.

So when she saw disappointment flash across Kara’s face the first of December at the sight of the dish now filled with chocolates wrapped in iridescent gold and silver foil, she suppressed her sharpness once more for a decidedly unexpected approach. “Not a fan of my Kisses, Kiera?”

Both women heard the respondent creak of Kara’s tablet case under a suddenly too-tight grip—the first time Cat could recall the hero slipping in any way around her regarding any of her superior abilities. Something about that fact lifted Cat’s lips as she listened to Kara stammer nervously. “I’m—I’m sure they’re delicious, Ms. Grant.”

The CEO wondered at how perfectly the blush blooming from Kara’s neckline would have matched her cape. “Of course, they are. They’re also what’s _de rigueur_ for the winter holidays.” Sensing a deeper meaning behind Kara’s disappointment, she finished in an almost apologetic tone, “Candy corn, unfortunately, has a limited retail life.”

“Oh, I know.” Her smile tightened at the edges. “My sister and I still fight over who gets the last piece each year.”

“Alex?” Cat took a moment to enjoy the increasingly familiar pleasure she felt whenever she succeeded in surprising Kara with some bit of information she’d retained about her assistant.

She nodded, a more genuine smile lighting her eyes. “I’d never had candy corn before Alex’s parents took me in.” Her fingers fidgeted nervously against the tablet as she realized how revealing such an admission might be, particularly to someone as perceptive as the CEO. Cat, however, gave no external indication that what she had said was odd.

“M-my foster dad, Jeremiah—he was the one who loved candy corn more than all of us.” She unconsciously adjusted her glasses, her touch lingering along the frame before slipping away. “He always let me have the last of whatever bag he’d opened. H-he told me that he only shared his candy corn with—w-with his family.”

Cat felt the break of understanding, sharp and merciless, at what Kara refrained from saying out loud. She had wondered at Kara’s oversight in mentioning a foster father when she shyly offered Cat the edited explanation about her parents. Cat realized in that moment she had never hoped more fervently for divorce as the reason behind the omission. She felt the rage spike within her at the cruelty of a universe that continued to take so much from someone so generous and kind.

At the sight of Cat suddenly holding something out toward her, Kara quickly snapped back to focus. The beginning of embarrassment for having allowed herself to become so distracted in front of the CEO instantly shifted to surprise. Cat shook the half-full bag of candy corn once, quirking an eyebrow to indicate her intent. “It wasn’t enough to fill the bowl again,” she offered as explanation.

Fingers brushed as Kara finally accepted the bag. The hero’s bottom lip trembled ever so slightly as she stared at the candy now in her hand. “Thank you, Ms. Grant.”

Cat had never heard gratitude more sincere or heartbreaking.

With a small shake of her head, Cat quickly shifted back in her seat, once more turning toward the stack of layouts on her desk. “Thank your enviable metabolism, Kiera,” she deflected, slipping one of the layouts from the stack. “Please take this back to Mr. Olsen and let him know I hope he can overcome his temporary color blindness in time to fix this spread before this evening’s deadline.”

Once Kara had hurried from her office, layout and candy in-hand, Cat waited a beat before rising and going to her office bar. Pouring generously from one of her decanters of scotch, she hastened a retreat to her balcony. With her back to her office, she drained her glass and swiped a knuckle swiftly beneath her eyes, shaking her head once more at how easily Kara could cause her to break even her most fundamental rules.

The afternoon of Christmas Eve, Cat leaned back in her chair, casually observing the barely staffed bullpen. Most CatCo magazines observed a skip week between Christmas and New Year’s. Those still on deadline for the monthly magazines were nearly finished. The CEO figured the place would be empty by three, giving her a rare evening free. At the thought, she began planning what she would cook for Carter before they would decorate the tree and watch his favorite cartoons before bedtime.

The sound of her assistant calling out excitedly caused her to glance up in time to see Kara zip around her desk and wrap her arms around the brunette approaching her. Even from where she sat, she could hear the soft _oof_ the brunette exhaled as she hugged Kara back just as fiercely.

“You ready? Mom’s already baking. I figure she’s got about a three-dozen cookie lead on you by now.”

Cat couldn’t help the small laugh that slipped between her lips at how Kara’s whole face lit up over the mention of cookies. She watched her assistant tilt her head slightly to the side, the barely audible huff of amusement clearly caught by superior hearing.

“Yeah, just give me a second,” and she turned and walked into the CEO’s office. “Ms. Grant?” She nervously wiped her hands along the pleats of her skirt as she moved closer to stand in front of Cat’s desk. “I, um, I hope you and Carter have a wonderful Christmas break.”

Cat relaxed into an honest smile at Kara’s mention of her son. She always remembered Carter in thoughtful ways that surprised Cat. What surprised her more was how profoundly each time affected her.

“You as well, Kara. Enjoy your time off with Alex and Eliza.”

Kara’s jaw gaped slightly. Cat smirked at the sight. “I believe your sister is waiting, _Kiera_.”

The teasing sound of Cat’s usual mispronunciation snapped Kara from her stunned silence. “Right. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us.”

Temptation too strong, Cat rejoined, “You could always fly.”

Kara laughed at the comment in the stilted way that Cat knew meant she was preparing to launch into one of her painfully transparent attempts at obfuscation.

“But since you’re driving,” she continued casually, “here.” She stood from her chair and leaned across her desk to the candy dish. When she stood back up to full height, she noticed the distinctly low focus of Kara’s eyeline. The shift back to meet Cat’s gaze was almost too fast to notice.

Almost.

Cat found herself pleased that she’d had the forethought that morning to leave an extra button open on her blouse—and to select appropriately festive red lingerie to wear beneath it.

Once more allowing Kara a reprieve, she silently held out her hand. When the hero responded in kind, she placed several wrapped chocolates in her hold. Her fingers slipped along the soft, surprisingly warm skin of Kara’s palm and upper wrist, causing a noticeable shiver through the hero. “Those should last you at least until you reach the car.”

The moment broke with a self-deprecating snort from Kara that even Cat couldn’t deny finding adorable. “Merry Christmas, Ms. Grant.”

As her assistant hurried once more toward the exit, Cat caught the knowing smirk adorning Alex’s features and the way she rolled her eyes at her sister. As the two began for the main elevators, Cat couldn’t help but wonder what the brunette had said to earn the very loud, very chagrined “Alex!” she heard Kara exclaim once they were out of sight.

She hoped it was something appropriately lascivious.

The CEO’s week off passed uneventfully, with days full of journeys with Carter and evenings wrapped in her favorite blanket before the fireplace in the den. The mild climate in National City made the fireplace somewhat unnecessary. However, having grown up in Metropolis, Cat found the notion of not sitting in front of a fire in the winter lamentable.

Of course, not having someone with whom to share the fire was nearly as regrettable. A snifter of brandy or a tumbler of scotch wasn’t nearly as comforting, but she knew they were far less complicated than any other pursuits she might have started considering in recent months.

When New Year’s Eve approached its end, Cat and Carter snuggled beneath blankets, hot cocoas in hand, and watched the National City fireworks display from their penthouse balcony. Cat knew of all variety of high-ticket soirees happening at that moment around National City, to which Kara had politely sent the CEO’s regrets.

Cat knew, more importantly, the incalculable value of moments like this with her son. High school loomed ever closer, as did the inevitable moment when he would choose someone else—be it boy or girl—over his mother as a companion on future adventures or special evenings like this. It was the natural progression of age, and she would never begrudge him those honest and rightful choices. Instead, she would hold him close while he still allowed it, and relish every second as the gift it was.

At the sound of the celebratory din rising from the street below, she leaned closer and kissed her son’s forehead, whispering “Happy New Year, Carter” against his dark silken curls. She heard the sleepy slur of his response and knew she needed to guide him to bed then before he became too tired.

As they rose to head upstairs, Cat froze, turned quickly at what she thought was the familiar sound of fabric snapping in the breeze. The early morning sky, however, bore nothing more than remnants of firework smoke drifting into dissipation.

With a sigh the meaning of which she refused to consider, she sent Carter upstairs while she folded their blankets and left their mugs soaking in the sink before following him up to his room. Already finished with brushing his teeth, he’d settled into bed, devoured by a monstrous tangle of pillows and covers. “Good night, Mom. I love you.”

She smiled fondly at the muffled words, eyes shining in the dim light of the hall. “I love you, too, Carter. Sleep well.”

Padding across the plush carpet of her bedroom, she fumbled briefly before finding the switch for the lamp on her nightstand. In the soft illumination, she froze, eyes locked on the pillows piled at the head of her bed.

The gold foil glinted in the light as she reached out to retrieve the familiar treat. Clutching the chocolate in one fist, she hurried toward the doors to the smaller balcony off her bedroom. The chill that instantly hit her barely registered as she stepped out to the balcony ledge and once more scanned the sky.

It was a pointless effort, of course. She knew the hero could have made it all the way back to Midvale by the time she’d discovered the small sign of her presence. She opened her fist, fighting futilely against the joy that twitched the corners of her mouth. A Kiss from Kara for New Year’s.

“Not at all how I imagined it,” she laughed as she popped the chocolate in her mouth and closed her eyes while it melted against the warmth of her tongue. As she made her way back inside, she glanced up one more time, breathing into the new day, “Happy New Year, Kara.”

The return to work the following Monday brought Sno-Caps to Cat’s candy dish and a victorious twist to her lips when she realized she’d succeeded in something she didn’t think possible: introducing Kara to a candy she hadn’t yet tried. She watched Kara examine one of the confections between her fingers, feeling her breath stutter slightly at the open wonder in Kara’s gaze—a wide-eyed curiosity Cat could easily imagine perpetually adorning the hero’s features as she first experienced even the smallest delights of her new planet.

“It’s candy, darling. Surely, you know what to do with that.”

If the endearment slipping from her lips surprised her as much as it did Kara, Cat suppressed it well. The same could not be said of her response to the sight of Kara slipping the candy into her mouth and gently sucking her fingers clean of the chocolate left behind. The soft inhalation was enough to draw Kara’s attention.

Even with the light of her office reflecting off Kara’s glasses, Cat caught the immediate dilation of her pupils. Surprisingly, Kara refrained from looking away, and Cat couldn’t help but wonder at how much she was drawing from her Super persona in the moment.

“So do they get the Kara Danvers seal of approval?”

Expression holding in a way even Cat found impressive, the hero plucked another Sno-Cap from the dish. When she placed it on her tongue, she slowly repeated the process of sucking her fingers clean. 

As she watched Kara turn and walk away, Cat had never been more grateful she was already sitting down. 

January’s clear (and clearly tortuous) success soon became February’s nearly damning miscalculation on Cat’s part. 

As she stood in her office, eyes focused on the CCN coverage playing across her screens of Supergirl’s latest battle, she felt her expression tightening in worry.

The reporter on scene speculated vainly about how badly injured the hero might be by the alien she fought. The camera operators all tried, with varying results, to zoom closer, to give viewers a better shot of what they all believed might be blood around their hero’s lips.

Cat knew better on all fronts. She knew Kara wasn’t injured at all. The alien was clearly no match for Supergirl. Instead, Cat suspected the hero was trying to be careful, maybe even trying to convince her opponent to stand down peacefully, to offer them a better alternative to whatever awaited them at the hands of the Black Ops agents waiting below. 

Cat knew, too, she wasn’t bleeding. That was what worried her the most.

She should have said something to Kara that morning. However, the distraction of watching her assistant feverishly popping cinnamon hearts into her mouth—the even greater distraction of _listening_ to Kara’s steady sounds of pleasure as she consumed the hearts with unexpected fervor left her unable to say much of anything. Something about the way the spiced flavor hit her taste buds clearly left her addicted—and left Cat equally addicted to enjoying her enjoyment.

Now, however, Cat cursed her distraction as she watched the Hero of National City with lips stained the same color as all those cinnamon hearts she had so voraciously consumed all morning. It was such a betraying tell that all Cat could think to do was clutch her cell phone tightly, finger poised over the speed dial button for Kara’s number, in anticipation of Supergirl’s inevitable victory.

Finally growing weary of the diplomatic route, the hero sent her opponent reeling with a solid left hook that would have made Sugar Ray himself proud. Cat watched as the alien fell to the ground in a cloud of roadway detritus chucked up by their impact. Agents quickly swarmed in, restraining and removing the combatant with impressive rapidity.

By the time the CCN cameras pulled back for a wide shot of the surrounding sky, Supergirl was already gone. 

“Shit.”

The hissed epithet drew a concerned expression from the IT hobbit, which Cat instantly crushed under a glare as she hurried for her balcony. Finger already pressing the speed dial, she sighed with characteristic impatience as she pushed the door shut behind her.

“Ms. Grant?” The howl of wind in the background increased almost instantly. “I-I am so sorry, Ms. Grant. Downtown is a mess right now from—”

“Kara, you need to go home.”

Silence punctuated by a noticeable decrease in the rushing roar left Cat with the clear mental image of Kara slowing in confusion over the CEO’s statement.

“I-I—Ms. Grant, I didn’t mean to be so late. I swear, I can be back in a few minutes. Please don’t send me away.”

The final words tumbled through the line with such quiet desperation, Cat could feel the sharpness of Kara’s fear embedded within them.

“No, Kara, I'm not sending you away.” She closed her eyes at the soft choke of relief she heard—cursed herself for leaving Kara so uncertain about her importance in Cat’s life. “I just need you to go home, and I need you to look in the mirror. I think you’ll understand better then.”

The CEO closed the line before Kara could respond. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she took in a deep calming breath while dialing the number of the producer she knew was on-scene downtown. She quickly relayed instructions while returning to the wall of screens in her office. 

Moments later, the reporter cut back in over shots of the mystery agents who teamed often with Supergirl still securing the scene.

_“We’ve just received word from CatCo sources confirming that Supergirl was not injured during today’s altercation.”_

Cat clicked her tongue softly as she tapped the edge of her phone against her chin. “I say it here and it comes out there.”

Watching for a few moments longer, the CEO narrowed her gaze as one shot panned past an agent who looked conspicuously like Alex Danvers. With a shake of her head, she once more muted the media wall so she could return to reviewing the layouts Kara had delivered before needing to leave.

Nearly an hour passed before the CEO heard stirring from her office doorway. She frowned at the unexpected visitor who hovered for several moments before working up the courage to enter.

Winn shifted his weight several times before finally finding his voice. “Ms. Grant, Kara isn’t going to be able to come back to the office.”

The CEO watched the series of unconvincing lies as they filtered through his terrified expression. Uninterested in hearing any of the options her IT hobbit could contrive, she returned to her work, brushing her fingers through the air as she did.

“I already assumed as much,” she snapped, not entirely truthfully. She had hoped Kara would return. However, she also understood the significance of all that had changed in the matter of one brief phone conversation.

She knew Kara would need time to regroup, perhaps even time to consult with her Black Ops sister in concocting a lie far more convincing than any of the simperings coming from Winn. Whatever the final solution Kara chose, all Cat hoped in that moment was that it wouldn’t take her too long to decide.

“I don’t pay you to stare, Witt.”

The mispronunciation jarred him once more into motion. Stumbling away on a hasty retreat, he mumbled something the CEO couldn’t translate and quite frankly couldn’t care less about in the moment.

The rest of the afternoon dragged by, Cat in a constant state of wanting to give Kara space and wanting to do something to let her know it was all right—that she had nothing to fear from Cat. 

As shadows lengthened across her office, she grew increasingly restless until finally unable to concentrate any more. With a huff, she strode to her bar for a tumbler of scotch. 

Not even bothering to put the top back, she threw back two fingers in one steady, satisfied swallow and immediately poured two more. The burn no longer hit her the way it once did, instead allowing her a greater appreciation for all the subtle flavors.

She didn't taste anything that evening, her thoughts too mired in the extending silence from Kara that left her off-kilter and increasingly worried.

Tipping back the glass once more, she muttered, “Dammit, Kara,” against the glass rim before downing its contents.

When she heard the slight gasp from her office door, she turned toward the source, fumbling in placing the glass back on the bar. She noted the glass tumbling toward the floor—

—and then held in the hand of the woman suddenly standing in front of her as if she had been there the entire time.

Cat stared in silence as she felt her heart knock vibrantly against her ribs. 

Clearly, Kara heard the quickened rhythm as well. She darted her gaze down briefly toward Cat’s chest before taking a step back and hanging her head slightly. 

“I-I’m sorry, Ms. Grant.”

Eyes narrowing ever so slightly, the CEO took the glass from Kara’s hand and set it back on the bar. She then turned and walked over to her desk where she leaned against the edge and folded her arms.

The hero shifted, body tense with barely controlled nerves. Cat could see the urge to flee in every taut line of Kara’s frame.

A soft sigh passed from her lips before she finally offered, “I actually owe you the apology, Kara.”

She couldn’t suppress the frisson of satisfaction she felt at how clearly she had surprised the hero. Scooting the candy dish closer to her side, she explained, “I should have been more careful in what I fed you.”

The soft lilt of Kara’s laughter tingled down her spine. The hero finally found enough resolve to step closer. Pausing just within Cat’s reach, she sighed, “Alex said you knew—said you probably always knew.”

“Alex is a very wise woman.” Kara’s responding indignant sniff was tempered by the adoration lighting her eyes. Gesturing to the dish, she teased, “I'm afraid we need to refrain from cinnamon hearts in the office anymore.” She saw the disappointment in Kara’s gaze. “Don’t worry, darling, I wrapped up the rest for you to enjoy when the threat of alien smack downs is not imminent.”

Less surprised that time by the endearment that slipped so easily from Cat’s lips for her, Kara shifted slightly closer. With a nod, she asked, “What’s in the dish now then?”

“Something more traditional for the ensuing holiday.” She hitched one shoulder in a move that almost seemed nonchalant. “Carter actually insisted I buy them along with the cinnamon hearts.”

Never a fan of the chalky banality of the more traditional Valentine conversation hearts, she still couldn’t resist her son’s surprising insistence that Cat buy at least one bag. When he quietly mumbled that he thought they would be fun for his mom to share with Kara, Cat realized how annoyingly perceptive her son had become. Neither Grant was convinced by Cat’s exaggerated eye roll even as she placed the bag in the basket.

“Did he.”

Cat’s lips formed the whisper of a smile at Kara’s non-question. Shifting her attention, she examined several of the hearts before picking one and extending it toward the hero. “He thought you might enjoy their messages.”

Ocean-deep gaze shifted with a slow blink as Kara accepted the heart. When she once more refocused on Cat’s face, the resolve in her expression shook Cat in the most delicious way.

Slipping off her glasses and placing them on the desk, the hero stepped close, her legs on either side of Cat’s. She held the candy between her thumb and forefinger, positioned so Cat could see the words imprinted on the heart. 

And then Cat was enjoying the curl of Kara’s free hand against the back of her neck, the gentle motion of Kara’s lips against her own, the inquisitive plunge of Kara’s tongue, the succulent sting of Kara’s teeth tugging at her bottom lip as the hero finally pulled back.

Thoughts stuttered back to life slowly, the resultant smile to brighten Cat’s expression much faster. “Exemplary execution of instructions.”

Placing the candy next to her glasses, Kara inched closer, breath caressing Cat’s skin as she sighed, “It was time I followed my heart.”

Cat couldn’t resist the temptation of Kara’s confession. Shifting through the candy hearts again, she selected another message to offer the hero.

Kara inhaled softly as she read the two words. When she looked up, her eyes searched Cat’s expression, finding only hope within her jade gaze. 

“I am, Cat.”

Fighting through the way her eyes blurred at the hero’s unconditional response, Cat knew which heart she needed to find next. She resisted the urge to roll her eyes at the too-cute number/word combination of the message once she finally located it, instead pressing the candy into Kara’s palm. 

With an almost imperceptible nod, Kara popped the candy heart into her mouth, eyes bright with promise. As she finished swallowing the heart, she reached out, took Cat’s hands and drew her into the safest embrace Cat had ever felt.

Cat sighed her pleasure as the hero once more captured her lips, reveling in the sweet taste of forever in Kara’s kiss.

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah. I sat down a few nights ago to start writing the next chapter of my series and this came out instead. I blame it on my recent re-watch of "Livewire." That bowl of candy corn always makes me laugh. I kind of didn't really reference any actual events from S1 throughout the rest of the story. I guess I could say this is an AU story? Sure, we'll go with that.
> 
> Oh, and the messages on the conversation hearts? Kiss Me. Be Mine. 4 Ever.
> 
> Seriously, I think I'm stuck in fluff mode...


End file.
